Erase Me
by Aurora Bluewolf
Summary: Loki has a birthday wish after years of not getting one. AU 2011 Thor, dark fic, mostly rated for angst and sad family and friend moments. Can be romantic if you squint, but not intentional. Is getting kinda wild in an awesome way. Mummies! Ghosts! Author losing her mind.
1. Chapter 1

Heads up- wrote this at a random down moment. Thank you CAH. So this is a story about Loki having a very dark realization, and trying to erase himself. I'm warning you now, this has a very dark potential. But I don't write tragedies. So enjoy, read carefully, and a review would be much appreciated.

Not mine, don't own.

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It was one thing to _buy_ things. It was one thing to _reward_ yourself. It was a completely different to have something given to you. Wealth and riches could buy you whatever useless thing you wanted, and thousands of them if you'd like. But to have someone love you enough to give you something, that made the object worthwhile. It could be a useless doll, damaged tea cup, beaten book, or golden chalice, but it meant the same. They took them time to give you something special, just for you. It's not something you can part with, because it means parting with the love that person gave you. Their time, their money, and their _love_\- it was all there in a gift. He'd never received many gifts. Most were at the holidays, few here and there, but virtually none on his birthday. Not only was he 'difficult to shop for', but no one knew him well or cared enough, to gift him anything.

That's why there were no parties in Loki's honor. It wasn't that they didn't have the money for them, more on the idea that no one would willingly drag themselves to his birthday party. Not like his brother's. Women would stand in line for days to spend even a moment with Thor. Not with Loki. Hell, some days it felt like they'd rather sacrifice their first child to be rid of him. So on that special day, no parties were thrown because of the reminder of loss from battle. And Loki would sit in his room, usually rewarded with a small cake made by the chefs and his mother if he was good. Thor was too busy with Father attending to business before the ceremonies, which Loki never attended. He'd hated that damn ceremony for as long as he could remember. He used to think that was why he wasn't getting any attention, but later he realized that it was just him in general. No one liked the outcast, odd looking Prince Loki. With his dark hair, so unlike the golden tresses of Asgardians; or his green eyes, so unusually green.

After many years, just staying up here was good. Locked in his room, asking for quiet and peace where he could. But today was different. This year, he knew what he was.

Frost Giant.

Monster of nightmares, creature of deathly ice- hated by all Asgardians.

He barred the door at night, just for safety. He also coated the windows in ice, since the guards never liked protecting him in the first place. It all made a lot of depressingly sober sense now.

A knock on his door every few hours made sure he was awake, to which he replied a quick 'busy' and left it at that. He could tell his mother was getting frustrated with her reclusive boy, and Sif had been by twice, scolding him for ditching the ceremony again. It was only when Thor's huge hand knocked on the door did the ice finally crack. He didn't care for the bags under his eyes, created by about 72 hours of straight work. He didn't care about his mussed hair or his ruffled clothing, which had never been removed after he came to his room last. It wasn't like there was anyone to impress on the other side of that door.

"Brother, we need to speak." Thor ordered, unloving and dense.

"I'm busy" Loki responded with a standard tone, no inflections or indications of emotion.

"Not for a moment with me. Let's speak." Thor replied.

"Busy." Loki gruffed, doing his best to shoo the man off without confrontation.

"Brother." Thor roughly sighed.

"Fine." Loki finally waved the ice off the door and allowed it to open.

"Why do you keep avoiding this day? The people want to see you." Thor asked briskly, not noticing the ice on the other side of the room. Then again, Loki had made it rather thin to allow some of the precious moonlight to paint his bedroom in the evenings. And Thor wasn't really inside of Loki's room. He'd refused to step in since he'd been hexed when they were teens, and refused to come in since.

"I have no place at the ceremony, no wish to attend, and more work than you know, _future king_." Loki hissed.

"It's just for a few hours. Please let them see you for just a few hours. The feast at least, then you can lock yourself in your bedroom all week again." Thor mockingly begged.

"I do not lock myself in here for a week." Loki ticked back.

"It seems like you do. I haven't seen you in months. Is this about your heritage? Loki, I thought you said you were fine with all this." Thor returned with his irritated huff and a motion towards Loki's body.

"Fine? Fine? You think I'm fine? Why don't you find out everything you were ever told was a lie?" Loki snapped back, making Thor tense up.

"Coming from one who lies often and without consequence, I don't think this is that big of an issue." Thor replied without really thinking.

"Maybe it is to me, Thor!" Loki roared.

"Loki, I-" Thor began to apologize.

"No! For once in my life, I'M NOT FINE. I'm tired. I'm sick. I'm sick of people. I'm sick of Asgard. And I'm damn sick of this stupid, wretched day! Every year, it's the same! No acknowledgement for Loki's birthday, but plenty of time for everyone else's! And to top that ass with a golden crown- let's treat him like an outcast for the rest of the year too! And why? BECAUSE HE'S AN UNWANTED RUNT FROST GIANT. But don't tell him for most of his life. Oh nooo- just shove him to the side because he's weak and likes to perform 'magic tricks'. And just expect him to be 'fine' with it all." Loki ranted with every bit of stocked up rage he had in his chest. By the time he was done, he'd changed into his blue skin, with vivid red eyes adding emphasis on exactly how angry he was with Thor over his past treatment.

"Loki, I-I didn't mean to-" Thor stumbled over his words.

"Shut up! Shut up and GET OUT OF MY ROOM." Loki roared as he used his ice to shove Thor out of the door and slam the wood in his face. Before he could hear a retort, he'd glossed the entire room in a thick layer of hard ice. He slumped against the frozen door and rubbed his cold face with his cold hand, hating the feeling of the blue flesh against itself. He heard Thor's voice muffled on the other side, but gladly relented a heavy sigh as he heard footsteps leaving his bedroom door. He sat there for a long, long time- just staring at the travel gear frozen in the corner.

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Short starter, I know, but this is a good break. Please review?


	2. Chapter 2

Thor hadn't meant to upset his brother so much. Sure, he was fed up with the rumors that Loki was a recluse, even if it was true. But he didn't mean it to sound so bad when he addressed Loki. This day had always been awful for Loki, even when they were young. He could recall being sent to his room after the festivities without as much as a word to his brother. It bothered him when he was younger because Loki always seemed to be alone. It wasn't until much later did father explain that Loki's presence wasn't going to be welcomed by the warriors who accompanied him that day, and that it was best to allow the young man to stay in his chambers. Thor now realized it was because father and mother hadn't told Loki about his finding, and were probably trying to keep him from the truth. Though it royally pissed him off, he didn't confront them about their actions and Loki's outburst when he arrived at the ceremony in his well shined armor and new cape.

He tried to ignore the pang of guilt at the idea that he, once again, received new armor for his battles and a new cape, while Loki was left to his virtually unused battle regalia. Even though his mind noted that he wore through armor like undergarments, Loki never seemed to get anything new. Then again, he did seem like a man of little needs and few wants.

"Thor?" Sif's voice broke through his little trance. His head snapped up in attention, not realizing that he'd been standing in the same spot now since the Allfather's speech about honor and living for the future had ended. He must have looked like a fool, just standing there, spacing out. Someone could have hung a coat on him and he would have made a marvelous hanger for the evening while he sorted through his thoughts.

"I'm- I'm here." He stated like a fumbling oaf. He didn't mean to give such blank answer, but he was too focused on other issues to think.

"You seem ill. Is something bothering you?" Sif inquired. Thor tensed for a moment, unsure if he should tell one of his best friends about Loki's odd outburst. Assuming the ever vigilant Sif would discover what happened sooner rather than later, he relented his guilt.

"I had a fight with Loki." He blandly stated. Sif stared at him for a moment, taking mental note of what had been broken in the palace recently. When she realized that, for once, it was just a verbal fight, she shoved the blonde man gently with her shoulder.

"And you have fought many times before. May I remind you how long it took to fix the last round of damage to the courtyard gardens after you two shattered the stone work?" Sif jested, attempting to lighten the mood with her recollections.

"Yes, but this time it was different. He didn't throw a spell, he just yelled. Apparently, he hates this day and everyone involved in it." Thor sighed while rubbing his eyes in frustration dissipation.

"And this surprises you? He's Loki. He's the resident drama king. Just let him mope. We can enjoy our mead while he enjoys his misery." Sif scoffed with another sip of the spicy drink.

"It's not that, Sif. He sounded really hurt. And his points were-well, valid. In all his years here, we've never celebrated his birthday. Not just on the day, virtually at all. And, well, compared to my yearly celebration, I can see why it hurts." Thor confessed.

"So, let's drag him down here to drink and feast. It seems to be his choice to stay up there." Sif retorted rather bluntly.

"It's not the same. All these years, I thought Loki just didn't want to come to the celebration. But recently" Thor's voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled Sif behind a curtain to block any wandering ears. "Recently, Father and Mother told Loki where he came from."

"Thor, we've all had the 'talk', I don't see why this is a big-" Sif began.

"No! No, not that talk. Loki was left on the altar of a religious palace in Jotenheim. He's a Frost Giant, Sif. They left him to die." Even buzzed as she was, Sif's mind placed the pieces together quickly while her mouth gaped open.

"Oh, dear Odin. So this isn't about the celebration." She answered with a guilty tone. She recalled their last conversation on Frost Giants ended with the condemnation of the entire race, and a promise to slaughter any they encountered. Loki was sitting less than five feet from her when she'd agreed to the promise, and had his nose buried deep in some huge tome. She hadn't thought of it until now, but Loki must have been informed earlier that same day. He'd been so uncharacteristically quiet, she'd thought so little of it with his eyes set sternly on the pages in front of him.

"Well, yes and no. Loki thinks he's unwanted, and, well, I can see why. I mean, every year I get a big party. Everyone in the kingdom comes! We make merry until the following week! Now, of course many are just playing up to the future king, but Loki doesn't even get a cake anymore. He just stays up in his room, alone, all day. And before he was old enough to fight, Father wouldn't even _allow_ him to come down because of the warriors feelings towards Frost Giants." Thor explained.

"So, what do we do for Loki?" Sif asked, sincerely worried for the supposed loner.

"Well, after tonight, I want to start celebrating Loki's birthday. Just the six of us. He likes quiet parties. If we keep it small, he'll be safer and happier. Other than that, I do not know. There might have been too much damage done." Thor sighed as his shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Come on. Up up. Let's take him something to eat. I don't want him starving." Sif briskly offered after a few moments. Not only would this give them some much appreciated distance from the heat of the party, but it might lighten both men's moods. She hated seeing Thor upset, but knowing that Loki was feeling so dejected hurt her. She felt as though she'd failed to see what was really going on, and in turn, failed a good friend. A friend who'd healed her when she was injured on missions. A friend who often tried hard to be like the older, stronger men- who received no encouragement from anyone. Not even her. Damn, she'd failed.

After gathering two plates chocked high with grapes, fruit, and sweet bread; the pair took off for Loki's room. The journey up the stairs was only interrupted by an occasional nod to adjust the other's plate before it toppled.

When they arrived, they knocked on the door after shooing the guards away. Thor noted that the ice on the outside of the door had melted since he'd left, leaving a large puddle in its wake.

"Loki!" Thor called out as he knocked on the door with a heavy hand. Not one sound came from within. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep after his outburst? With all the energy he'd expended, Thor wouldn't have been surprised. Surely he at least had a headache after that screaming rant, and a beckoning bed would have felt magnificent under a sore head.

"Loki! We brought you something to eat! Let us in!" Sif knocked with her hand. Thor made a mental note that they'd forgotten to bring anything to drink, but Loki never enjoyed the thick, heavy mead that clogged every sense available.

"Maybe he's asleep?" Thor suggested. Sif handed him her plate of food and backed up. One swift kick to the door sent a crackling of ice shattering on the other side. One more kick opened the door, which sent off more alarms in Thor's mind. Loki never left his door unlocked, much less able to be kicked in. There was always a spell to keep intruders out and allow him to rest well. It should have stopped Sif's kick without injuring her severely.

"Loki!" Thor called as he handed both plates back to Sif. He barged into the icy slushed room, his feet hitting the soggy stone floor with wet sputters. He looked around, barley able to see in the dark.

"Thor." Sif nodded towards the empty corner. Thor gazed there, finding it vacant of Loki's barely used travel gear. Sif's ears rang as Thor called for guards, questioning and fretting as she just stared at the two plates in her hands.

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Chapter 2- not as great as the first one, but it's a stepping stone.

I got an interview today! Happies! and a major thanks to everyone who reviewed! You really made me love this again!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, tell me how this reads. I really appreciate every review, and this fic is going surprisingly well. I'm test driving a new style I want to play with, so tell me how it reads. You'll see it. And don't worry, Loki's not crazy… yet.

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He'd escaped from Heimdall's watch just a few hours ago, and he'd almost regretted it.

Almost.

While he used to appreciate the idea of someone always watching over him, Loki now realized he was just being monitored like the rest of the universe. No special concern for the unwanted Frost Giant runt stolen to Asgard's treasure hoard. Then again, maybe if they had, he would have received that Ancient tome of Calligraphy spells long before he had to ask for it. Not like it was his birthday or anything.

He launched a rock into the air, watching as it skittered down the snowy slope. He gained a small smirk from this action, envisioning the small rock as Thor's awful smug smirk. Oh it felt so _good_ just to watch the rock bounce as it hit ice and trees. In fact, it felt so good, he knew he should just try it again to get a little more anger out.

The next rock his targeted turned out to be frozen into the ground- crunching his foot against the toe of his boot as his bones collapsed against the immovable force.

He growled in his toe destruction, falling to his knees and gripping the slowly cooling appendage. As it began to quell against his rough half sobs, his frustrated mind- unthinking as it was at the moment- provided him with the knowledge of his exhaustion. He scanned the area quietly for a small space that wouldn't require too much energy to cloak. Certainly there had to be somewhere-ah!

A small crevice, perfect for holing up in. Small enough that no beasty would find their way into during his rest. Loki hobbled his way over to the fissure in the rock, snuggling himself beyond the opening. It was actually large enough for Loki to lay down, but certainly the magnificent beasts that roamed this frozen world would not fit into this place.

He tossed his gear down roughly, ignore his subconscious desire to save his books from clattering together as he flopped down onto the ground. A wave of his hand sealed off the entrance with packed snow and a few of the rocks he'd stumbled over on his way through. He didn't want to hear the wind howling while he slept.

He rolled over onto his side, slightly chiding himself for not wearing one of Frigga's warm coats or bringing one of her blankets to cover himself with. No, he just_ had_ to be stubborn as hell. He just had to resist taking anything Odin's family had given him and only bring what he'd had tailored, or purchased outside the realm. Now, that looked like an incredibly bad decision. Between his lack of energy for keeping up the cloaking spell for so long, not eating well in the weeks beforehand, and probably breaking his toes on that rock; he needed a chance to let his magic replenish itself. That meant trying to keep himself out of Heimdall's sight the old fashion way.

He withdrew the silvery cloak from his bag, watching as it shimmered against the air. Such a rare item, and Thor had never appreciated it. It was given to his brother by an elven dignitary some years back (probably while Loki was still trying to chew on books rather than read them), and Thor had given it to the younger prince when he found in the bottom of his closet a few years back. It wasn't warm, but that's what the red manticore pelt he'd dragged along from his eighth kill was for. It wasn't' anything compared to the bear skin his _former_ brother had given him on the night of Thor… um. Shit. What was it? Nine hundredth kill? Oh for Odin's sake, even Loki couldn't remember exactly which kill out of Thor's stocks that pelt had come from. But he did recall that was the first year that Loki had actually felt cold.

It was also the year he'd first loved some Asgardian. This little infatuation had been over one of Thor's many rejections. She was a blonde girl, meek in form but wonderful in the kitchen. Loki always knew when she'd been around because the entire palace would smell of meat filled buns. And Thor had the shriveled balls to reject her because she came from a commoner's family! But when Loki approached, she offered nothing more than unspoken disgust. That was the first heartbreak the green clad man had experienced.

After running through the best paths in his mind, he decided to take the 'mature' path (or, what the elders and books always emphasized was the mature path) of returning to his studies and waiting for love to find him.

What a stupid idea.

Had he known what he was then, perhaps he would have thrown a dead bird in her golden braids, just for kicks. Forbidden from Asgardian love, but certainly not forbidden from mischief. If he wasn't allowed the same happiness as everyone else- Hel, he'd find it himself.

_No. That's immature. _

_You've always been this way, why does finding out make any real difference?_

"It made all the difference in the world when he'd been excluded from everyone's bildgsnipe games as a child. It made the difference when girls flocked over his brother, and treated him like horse mature. It mattered when there was never a real competition for the throne." Loki recalled darkly, trying to ignore his own mind.

_Surely, you saw that coming._

_Thor was the elder. It was never a real competition._

_The oldest gains the throne. That's how it's always been. You're not one to kid yourself into believing that just because Thor is an inconsiderate oaf who can't complete the most basic of treaties that Odin would over look his birthright for the second born._

"More like never born, if you ask me. And yes. I thought, at one point, that Odin would have enough sense to keep Thor from the throne if he wasn't ready for it." Loki chuffed.

_And you think this course justifies his wronging of you?_

"I didn't ask you. And for that matter, what about my birthright?" Loki growled into the night.

_We can't change what Laufey did. But this won't solve anything. _

_In fact, this may lead to war, if you are serious._

"I highly doubt they would start a war over me stealing a text. Besides, they are Frost Giants. Since when do they read books?" He bluntly stated.

_It's the idea behind it. This is wrong._

_Even if you succeed, will there not be another Loki for Ragnarok?_

"I highly doubt the Norns, or anyone else for that matter, would bother creating another Loki to fulfil a terrible prophecy after I'm gone. Seems like a waste of energy and magic." He justified to himself again.

_This course won't solve anything._

_I know you are hurt, but perhaps giving them a chance to talk would change things._

"They've had far too long to talk and I've stopped listening. This is right. This is the only way. This is the only way I can be happy. This is the only way I can be free. This is the only way I can finally have some blasted control of my destiny. I refuse to be at the mercy of the Norns any longer."

_They will stop you._

"Let them try." Loki hissed to himself in the darkness.

Loki's mind began to quiet itself. He just needed to focus on getting into the Ruins of the Markthus library. It was the last location recorded of the Book of Time- a census of every creature born or dead, past and present. If he got to that book, just one small spell and he would erase the name Loki from all of history, and the Norns wouldn't have a pawn to play with.

He wrapped himself in his shabby manitcore pelt, barely managing to keep his feet warm in the torn edges. He was never good with a knife, and skinning the damn thing had been a job on its own. But he ignored his shivers and did his best to close his eyes and forget the past few weeks. It hadn't worked since this mayhem began, but what was one more try when you were terrified of what you were? Insanity seemed to be his only friend and worst enemy, which had infected his thoughts and coddled his ideas.

He needed this.

He _needed_ to erase himself.

For Asgard.

For the Nine Realms.

For Loki.

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So, review please. I could really use the polite feedback. Don't worry. I'm not for super sad ending… though, at the way this is going, maybe I'll make an exception.


	4. Chapter 4

For the record, I hate writing chapters that are less than 2000 words. It kinda drives me bananas. But, here's to ideas flushing themselves out in a lesser amount of words. Let me know if I can improve. Oh, and just before you read: I do not usually condone violence against anyone (now saying it, well, we all have out bad days…. As long as they just stay words, not physical, I'm good). But a bit of a warning, someone gets slapped and there is recollections of Thor receiving spankings. Why? Because, growing up, I knew a few very special cases that just never responded to time outs. I don't think they got hurt, but let's face it- there will always be that one kid that just doesn't do time outs. Thor was probably that kid who never sat in time out, but would keep getting placed there until someone lost their temper.

Thanks to everyone who reviews! I really love you guys.

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Glass and crystal shattered as Thor flinched while holding attention to his king.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE?" Odin roared. Thor wished he hadn't said a damn thing now, and the Warriors Three and Sif were taking the smart path- pretending to be part of the foliage meant to freshen the air from the feasts when the booze and roasted carcasses overwhelmed the atmosphere. Thor didn't blame them. The last time Odin had been so mad, they had been banned from the castle while Loki healed his broken arm and Thor was grounded. Fandral had nightmares about the furious king for weeks after that round. Ok, they hadn't meant to trick Loki into falling off his steed while mock fighting, but how were they supposed to know that he would break his arm? It wasn't that much of a fall. Just down a short cliff. Thor could have taken it like a champ.

"Father- I swear, I will set out to-"Thor began.

"OH NO YOU DON'T. Don't you dare sweet talk me, Thor Odinson. What in my decent name did you say?" Odin roared. Thor could have sworn the dust from the rafters decided to join them with that shockwave.

"I-I said I didn't know what his problem was. That I thought he had made peace with his heritage. I didn't know it was about his birthday not being celebrated." Thor confessed, hands up in defense while he was certain his father wouldn't-

A harsh slap deafened the room.

Thor stood there, sore cheek and shock setting in as his head remained in the position it had been forced into by his father's hand. Everything stopped. His lungs stopped breathing, his eyes stopped moving, and his world froze for an strangely long moment.

His own father…

His own father slapped him.

He'd never struck him before.

Not like that. Not in anger.

"And you just assumed he would stay put?" Odin roared. Frigga was now firmly pushing herself into his throne.

"I-I didn't think-" Thor started.

"Of course you didn't. Since when did Thor Odinson think! Do you never have one second to place your words before saying them? How many treaties have you decimated? How many dignitaries have you offended? Do you even care?" Odin grabbed another crystal goblet and chuck it as hard as he could. It shattered on the other side of the room, earning a flinch from Frigga. Well, they needed to get a new set anyways. The relations with the dwarves would be strengthened by a request for the finest crystal and a silly tale of drunken madness over a feast. The dwarves admired that from the Asgardians. It would make them happy to know the only thing that could break their wares was the Allfather's drunken stupor.

"My dear, please calm yourself. This won't find Loki faster." Frigga teleported herself beside her husband as his breathe calmed. Odin shoved her off gently, turning towards the throne to sit back down.

"You will find your brother. You will bring him home. He is too valuable to our kingdom- no, all of the realms. If something happens to him, I swear it, Ragnarok will not find you fast enough, Thor Odinson." Odin hissed. Thor stood there, simply nodding. He still hadn't moved since Odin has struck him, but he could tell his cheek was swelling badly. He could see his mother's hand reaching to sooth the sore flesh, but he stopped her gently. She shouldn't have to deal with Odin's well deserved rage.

Thor turned towards the door, marching off before he was stopped.

"Thor." His feet froze as his father sighed his name.

"Yes, my king." Thor couldn't address him as father now. Father's do not hit their children, no matter how much they deserved it. Not like that. That was no deserved spanking for placing a frog in Eir's bedroom, or dumping water on the visiting dignitaries when he was only five hundred years old. That slap was full of rage, disappointment, and hatred. And Thor knew he earned every bit of it throughout the years.

"I won't be angry by the time you return with your brother. But this is not the behavior of a king. I pray you find that before your return. But hurry. Loki and his magic are far more valuable alive. His death would be the end of everything." Odin dismissed Thor with a wave of his hand. Thor stepped out silently, refusing to reply. His mind just wouldn't process anything. If he opened his mouth, he would certainly vomit either words or last night's ale.

"Thor?" Sif's voice hissed as soon as the large doors closed.

"I'm glad I didn't take you along. That went to Hel in a sinking ship." Thor muttered as he headed for their packed supplies. They had planned to retrieve Loki before his parents had noticed, but apparently his drunken squalling for the guards had risen more suspicion than expected. Thus was why Thor had sworn off alcohol until Loki was safely returned home. It was preliminary feast booze that had led his mind to be even more insensitive than usual, and booze that had cost him his only brother.

"We heard someone slap someone. Was- oh." Fandral cut himself off as he glanced Thor's cheek. Frigga wouldn't have slapped her son, no matter how badly he screwed up. But Odin's temper had never flared that badly. Surely he'd punished the oxen like Thor before, but only until Thor relented to his mistakes. He was a stubborn boy. Even as a child, he just never responded to confinements in his chambers or talks- no, he had to be taught through physical punishment. Usually it was rebuilding what he'd destroyed, then cleaning the stables for good measure, but even that transformed itself into a weight lifting challenge for the young man. Odin had to resort to spankings after a while. It was quiet frustrating to keep it from the public while molding the head strong boy into a man that would be king.

"We need to get Loki back. Odin says his death will cause Ragnarok." Thor muttered.

"Who said Loki was going to kill himself. He's Loki. Sure he wasn't as strong as us, but he can handle himself." Hogun offered a logical analysis.

"He seemed to be more of a threat to himself than anyone else. But, he is still royalty, and will still have a target on his head if he went to that place." Thor growled as the bile rose in his throat.

"To where?" Volstagg asked. They really hadn't been filled in on what Thor and Sif had learned in that short time.

"His notes were targeting Jotenheim. He may be after a text that will allow him to destroy existence as we know it." Sif hushed, trying not to let prying ears gorge on their words.

"Why would he do that?" Fandral asked bluntly as he grabbed his waiting gear.

"He was furious when we spoke. More than I'd ever seen before. He might be trying to rewrite existence to better suit a decent life." Thor returned as he tossed his gear on his patiently waiting horse. It whined as Thor tried to comfort the beast, knowing it could smell his raging confusion.

"And we are just supposed to head off to frozen rears unknown, possibly to die an icy death- courtesy of little mister drama king?" Fandral argued. He regretted it as soon as Thor's glare pierced through his entire being. Maybe the ice of Jotenheim would give him a tan after those blue eyes.

"Loki is many things, but his anger is deserved. Please, my friends. If this was I, would you not seek me in my time of need?" Thor asked, his eyes reflecting a strange sadness that the four had never seen before. The four looked towards Thor, then towards each other.

"For you, anything." Hogun answered.

"Well, standing around here isn't going to stop our Loki from accidentally destroying everything we love." Sif ordered as she mounted her horse and began for Heimdall's keep.

"Wait, are we just heading for Jotenheim? My friends, we cannot search the whole realm! The giants will kill us long before we find him!" Fandral reminded them.

"No, we stay at the keep until Heimdall locates him. We shall not waste time resting in our beds. He can disappear at a moment's notice. We will need to take the bridge as soon as he appears." Stated an oddly insightful Thor. If things had been less stressful today, all four of them would have smacked Thor just to see if he was an imposter.

"To freezing our rears off then." A miserable Fandral sighed. And he forewent a date with elven twins for this.


	5. Chapter 5

The Ruins of the Markthus were even more desolate than he'd expected. He could barely gather enough magic to force a few of the pillars in his way to the side before he climbed over the last two barring the once gorgeous doorway from entry.

And abruptly collapsed.

He'd forgotten to take adequate food when he left Asgard. If he was honest with himself, he was so hyper focused on trying to find this damnable book, he'd forgotten to eat well in weeks. But instead of packing even the most basic provisions that he once nagged Thor about, he stormed out of that warm, safe place with nothing more than the few pelts he had disgustingly skinned himself, the ex-Thor invisibility cloak, a couple of tomes and history texts, and his favorite throwing knives.

This was almost as bad as the time he'd decided to hide out in the treasure vault while disguising himself as a rat. Not only had he been forced to degrade his mental and emotional state to feel like a rat just to get the perfect transformation, but he'd been chased by a cat, pecked at by Mugin, and almost crushed more times than expected! Who knew the guards actually tried to squash rats with their boots? Loki had always thought the amount in his room was bad because they were just out of control, but now all of that made sense. The guards were probably throwing them in his room in hopes they would bite him.

He tried to forget his state at the moment. He needed to focus on getting warm. Despite their frozen tundra of a world, apparently Frost Giants could lower their own body temperature when they were depressed or starving. And Loki had forced himself into both positions at the moment. He tried to ignore his stomach growling like a dragon. He also tried to his shivering as he reached for his ratty manticore pelt and wrapped it around his shoulders. He flopped over, curling into himself as he tried to forget his sore muscles, his aching back, his hurting head, and the awful barrage of memories terrorizing his mind.

Yes, he wanted to just go back to the way things were.

Yes, he wanted to run back home and hide under fifteen pelts and a warm comforter Frigga had sewn for him just earlier this year.

Yes, he wanted to eat everything in the palace kitchens- even if he made himself sick from just too much food.

And yes, he wanted to call that blast oaf Thor his brother again. And Odin his father. And Frigga-dear Frigga- his lovely mother.

But things just didn't work out like that. His existence, as awful as it was on him, ensured Ragnarok.

If he truly loved anyone, he needed to do this.

He needed to ensure that Odin and Frigga live. That Thor takes the throne and sires an heir. And his existence just wouldn't allow that. That book was the only thing that could change his destiny.

He forced himself off the ground, but kept his pelt wrapped soundly around him. He grabbed his dropped bag with one hand and dragged it along with him. He knew he should try to preserve it by carrying it, but he couldn't even find the energy to care. He knew that after he was erased, everything he owned, including this beloved travel bag, would be redistributed to other misfortunate beings across the universe. So how he treated his belongings just didn't matter anymore.

He wandered across the wreckage of the library, noting the heavy coating of dust that claimed every surface. It looked so abandoned that Loki was certain there wasn't even insects to consume the texts left here. And no guards- which meant at least he didn't need to fight or talk. As much as he loved his own voice at one point, he just couldn't stand the sound of it these days. It was pathetic and cold, scratchy and unloved. Not like Thor's. His was so warm and welcoming, and Loki could recall when he would just listen to that baritone voice offering him solace after a nightmare. But those times were long dead. He needed to forget them and move forward. Because this nightmare wasn't ending until Loki was gone.

His frozen feet meet a set of collapsed tables. He looked over them, noting that as many books as the tables once held were now torn and scattered around the general area. He stepped around the table and immediately tripped over a broken chair.

"Gah!" Loki yelped as he released his pelt and grabbed his leg. After a moment of catching his breath, he looked down to see a large gash seeping bright red from under his fingertips.

"Shit." He mumbled to himself. At any other time he would have just whispered a spell to close the wound without scaring, but he could feel the emptiness where his magic should have been. It was cold and murky, uncertain of returning with his currant emotional state hindering its revival. He reached into his pack for anything to bind it with. It was just then that the magnitude of what he'd forgotten hit him. He hadn't packed bandages, rope, cloth or anything other than his books and pelt. Wonderful. Now he was going to bleed to death before he had a chance to erase himself. Now that was just pathetic. He couldn't even exterminate himself properly. He had to let a damn chair take care of him.

He scanned the room for any trace of cloth or old book binds, anything would do. He was resourceful, despite his overall propensity towards screw ups. He hobbled around the table the best he could, acknowledging the fact that his leg was still seeping wet blood into his boot. He always hated the way mud would squelch between his toes after a trounce with Thor, but this was even worse. Blood just stained everything so badly and dyed his green clothes feces brown.

"Ah." Loki announced to himself as he reached under a fallen shelf to grab a white shred of furry cloth. It wasn't as clean as he would have liked, but it would do. He knelt down when it snagged on whatever the shelf t had collapsed on and pulled harder as he sat on the floor. Frustration took over and he roared as he flung his magic as best he could.

He didn't expect to see a horned skull snagging the fur.

After the initial shock wore off, he observed the long since rotted body. It skeleton that reminded showed signs of Jotun heritage, but was about his size. But- but there were no runts. Runts were destroyed. Runts were a bad omen. That's why Loki was left on the alter.

The green clad man quickly recalled why he was here and grabbed an unused book binding adjacent to the skeleton, wrapping it tightly around his weeping wound. He stood carefully, fully intrigued by this place. He glance as best as he could through the darkness of the library. He would have lit a flame if his magic and his mind would have allowed it, but he was just too curious to remember how to cast fire.

All around him, Jotun runts lay long dead and decayed. Some had the privilege of being mummified by their environment, while others where barely skeletal. Their clothing, for the most part, reminded intact. Loki began to pull their clocks to see if they were real, fearful of touching the body. At best it would be cursed or sacred. At worse, it might still be juicy and smother him with decaying fluids.

After exploring what he could of the upper level of the library, some light was beginning to shine in this icy cavern. It must have been morning here on Jotunheim. Loki had almost forgot that this place did actually have seasons and sunlight on occasion. It glittered through the long forgotten stained glass and sparkled against the floor in tittering patterns. They formed designs and danced as he walked through them. What a glorious sight it was.

He could begin to make out what their text said (a courtesy of Asgard's Allspeak- you could read most languages in the Nine Realms). These must have been scholars, because they were researching everything for biology to chemistry to alchemy. Some had history texts, while others had constructed mock architectural structures out of their papery friends. One lucky soul had a large tome of beautiful paintings from faraway lands to use as an eternal pillow. Loki didn't dare disturb any one of the bodies, even if he was freezing. Just to his luck though, he managed to find his way through the intricate hallways of this library to what appeared to be the center study hall.

There, he found more bodies. Long decayed and unloved, rotted with their books still strewn around them. They didn't seem to have struggled in their death, but they didn't die easily either. Some had the look of neglect, curled into their bodies as they starved to death. Others skulls had been smashed in, evident in the text beneath them, still covered in dried blood.

Loki wandered across one particularly small body still clutching its pen. On the parchment beneath it, it read:

Let it be told that we did not die without dignity. Times change in all respects. When Strna passed and Merxney took the throne, the value of runts died with us. Our library has been destroyed. We dare not leave these ruins, for we know death is right outside the door. Of the seven of us remaining, three barely live. All hail the second son Laufey- the only hope we had. May he destroy his brother, and save the future of Jotunheim. May he value knowledge as his sire did.

-Henra the scholar, year 3046, age 53

Loki lost his breath. This was only written five years before Loki's birth, by the Jotun calendar. He fell to the floor as he realized the sick truth. If there was anything in his stomach, he would have vomited instead of dry heaving.

It all made sense now.

Sick, sick sense.

While this wasn't the truth he was seeking, he felt calmer as he slumped to the floor against the table. He tried not to touch Henra, because the tween appearance of this mummy was far too close to what he'd looked like at that age. Lanky, thin, but healthy enough. Long limbs and well exercised fingers wrapped in special gloves to keep the muscles from spasming during long assignments. Loki glanced at the fine attire the young mummy bore. Rich, warm pelts from wolves draped heavily over all of the mummies shoulders. Loki knew the Jotun wolves were huge creatures, but had little valuable fur. So one of their pelts would have been able to cover one full sized warrior, or fifteen of these runts.

Further inspection (what he could see rather than touch) showed gold necklaces covering one another, and silver and gold beads woven into his hair. A glance to the other mummies showed gems and other rare metals carefully weaved into long, well-kept tresses. So much like his own that he touched the roughened, greasy end of his own locks for memory.

He hadn't been taking good care of himself.

He'd been a recluse.

He'd pushed away his mother and brother.

But justly so… at the time.

He couldn't find the strength to stand, but he did notice that there was an unused pelt, large enough to wrap himself in, at the foot of the table. He carefully reached for it, half expecting a head to roll out of it. When nothing did, he gathered his worn body into the furry warmth and laid his head down.

He forfeited himself to tiredness and allowed decent slumber to find him for the first time months. He could feel his spine releasing its tension as it snapped and popped itself against the flat ground of the ornate tiled library. He was certain there was nothing lurking in these shadows that hadn't already found him, but just for measure, he covered his head and rolled towards the table a bit. Even if something awful wandered in, it would only see a ball of dusty, furry pelt.

He would search for sustenance when he woke. He noticed some berry bushes cultivating in what once was an inner garden of this lovely library. In his weakened wandering around the library, he had notice (although not acknowledged at the time) that these scholars were men among men. They had created a self-sustaining utopia in this small stone paradise. With gardens, fountains, sustainable heating sources, and mountains of knowledge. Had Loki known of this, he would have disappeared here years ago. He could spend the rest of his life away from Thor, restoring this paradise. And the best part was that no one would know he was here. No spells for blocking or hiding anymore! This stone was known for repelling all magic- including Heimdall's ability to see where he was!

Sleep found Loki with tender arms and a loving kiss, even if he was using a book on elven sexual positions as a pillow.

* * *

Tell me if I botched something. I really love the reviews you guys have been giving me.

Heavily inspired by The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug. The scene where they find the last members of Erebor, long mummified and still intact. That was a really cool scene to me. And I like mummies.


	6. Chapter 6

Be honest, where can I improve? I want to write a book for all ages in the future, with these original characters I've been playing with since middle school, and I just want it to be perfect. I need to know where my weaknesses lie, and if some of the more advanced writers (who may read this this note) would offer, I'd be glad to let you guys tear apart my work in the future. It's in parts, notes and pieces at the moment, but when I'm not panicking over my life, I get to writing very quickly. Let's face it, I had a minor mental breakdown this week, and this might calm me down enough to get me back on track.

Heads up, I'm still assuming that all but Odin need rest in Asgard. And can get sick to a degree.

* * *

Loki awoke warm and slowly. It was a nice change to his sudden awakenings from cold, fever, or nightmares. He could just curl into the warm, furry blankets and breathe to the sound of nothingness. No courtyard yelling morons, Thor snoring, clattering echoes of pots and pans from the kitchens waking him on the fifth level, Thor farting, or horns. Odin, he hated those damnable horns. They were supposed to welcome the sunlight each morning, but all they did was cause Loki's ears to hemorrhage while he nearly launched himself from his bed. That was when he got dressed and began his day of hard work.

He rolled under whatever table he'd landed next too last night, noticing that the smell of alcohol was absent before recalling where he was. He knew that when he opened his eyes, the still mummified corpse of Henra would still be there, staring off into the far wall with dead, rotted out eye sockets. It was a creepy thought to think that after you died, your body just decayed there. Some may try to play it off as returning to nature (which Loki could agree with, it made sense) but so much was in a body. Every scar you received in your life was stored in the flesh. Every memory you had was stored in the mind. Every emotion you flittered with controlled in your heart. The idea of it all just decaying was gross.

So he chose to just stay still. It wasn't often he had the peace and quiet to stay asleep for so long. If he was going to erase himself from existence, he could at least enjoy a morning sleeping in. After all, it wasn't like he was in a rush. He only needed to bind his foot again, thanks to his sleeping clumsiness. He hadn't received a decent injury in so long, that he'd managed to forget that bandages didn't like to stay put when you rolled over. Now, most warriors would not roll over without waking thanks to the pain of said injury, but Asgard had improved its healing magic so much over the last few centuries, virtually no one was injured significantly enough to require bandages. Still, that didn't protect warriors from losing an arm or a leg. Even the best magic couldn't protect them from a severed limb.

Loki sighed. Just laying around when your mind was in a tizzy wasn't happening.

His ideas and imagination were going absolutely insane.

See, this is what he hated about his head. It thought too much. Sure, it was great in a pinch during treaty meetings, but when your own thoughts were your greatest enemy? Torment would rain on his ideas. All of his thoughts would just shoot him with a thousand fiery arrows long before he chased his own inferiority complex around enough to find that sliver of reason to drag himself out of his pit of self-hatred. It wasn't very often in his youth that such a cycle took prisoner of him, but he did believe that he lost count of how long he'd hated himself in the last few weeks. It was border lining about 99% of the time.

He shoved himself out of the confines of the blankets, stumbling and flopping over a few times before doing his best not to kick the old mummy.

He climbed onto his wobbly feet, trying not to let his busted and partially numb toes get the better of him, and walked towards the large windows. Despite years of battering weather, these interior windows managed to allow light through the icy cold. They were slanted just enough to allow the snow to slide off before it turned into an icy sheet, but large enough to allow the library to be lit by natural lighting during the day. Loki hadn't had a good chance to see them the night before, when the twilight was setting in, but it must have looked frozen over from the outside only. He wandered down to the very overgrown garden, tapping the bright green old vines, heavily laden with berries and orbs of what he assumed were cultured grapes. He plucked the fruit from the vine and placed some of them in his hand while eating the rest. His stomach roared for more, so many more made it into his mouth than his hand.

He nearly stumbled across an old bucket, thoroughly glazed with dust, and knocked off the excessive substance with a good slam against the ground. He dumped his handful into the bucket and continued plucking the fruit. He made his way through old trees, half dead with abuse, and guarded by what few heat charms remained in place at the top of the glassed in room. Loki had to look carefully to see the structure, but he could tell that this was slanted to allow ice to melt into fresh water and rain down on the trees and vines with thawed purity.

He did his best to reach the untouched fruit, and grabbed only what he could reach with his hands. He didn't want to expend any energy on magic if he didn't need to. It was still very low, but he could feel the warmth of it recharging in his veins as he ate. And for once, he could gorge himself on fruit without judgmental glances of meat hungry Asgardians calling him a pregnant woman. He could savor the flavor of these glorious vines and trees, teasing the bursting fruit on his tongue while allowing the juices to flow down his throat at their own pace. No need to practically swallow them whole here.

He retreated to the library again, doing his best to not disturb the corpses. He was beginning to accept his new friends as some of the best roommates he'd ever had. They were quiet, didn't eat his food, and were kind enough to make him feel accepted. Had he been born in a different era, he wouldn't even think about erasing himself. He would have gladly situated himself in a library just like this one, enjoying a life of peace and prosperity while pursuing knowledge and art. Eating no flesh of beast or burdening himself with expectations of others. Heck, maybe he would even have had a family to visit him willingly. Maybe they would have been proud of their rare runt of a son, so smart and endowed with magical abilities.

He grabbed a text he could read, _A History of Modernization in Elven Architecture_. If it was one thing Loki absolutely adored about Vanaheim, it was their architecture. They integrated plant vines into their buildings, where they would act as light sources and generate insulation in those hallowed halls of magic. Loki loved every inch of it there. If it wasn't for their strong Asgardian ties, he may have tempted the idea of vanishing there. That, and he didn't want to inconvenience the universe by existing. Escaping to the wonderful world of Vanaheim, with their music, magic and culture, wouldn't have solved that tiny problem.

Oh how he missed this. Days of summer, spent hauled up in a library or out on a balcony ledge, resting graciously in the light of the warm sun while he read to his heart's content. Thor would be out on adventures with his friends, and he would be overheated and requiring of a serious cold charm to help his condition. Back then, he figured it was just a hormonal irregularity that resulted in his overheating. How simple minded he'd been.

But he'd been happy.

And maybe… maybe he should consider-

No.

This was the right path.

This was what he needed.

Loki returned to his book and his berries, eating handfuls as he flipped through the pages of his most recent love affair. Books were always good to him. Such tales of heroic battles and peaceful times- he could just take it in for hours. Even the books on history or mathematics, he'd gladly read each one with love and trust. They were not Asgardians. Asgardians could take advantage of him. They lied more than he did, and hurt more than he ever had with his pranks.

Loki shook his head to cease the thoughts. If he was going to do this, he was going to live his last few hours in a place he wanted to be. Here among these texts, he would read what he loved. He would be happy until he was ready to go. Here, no one could steal his favorite things in the world from him. He could wrap himself in his new found fur, beside silent beings who loved the thirst of knowledge in their life, and maybe, just maybe- take so much time to enjoy himself before he ever sought out that now dreaded book.

Come to think of it, it was most likely in a guarded case, so he would need his energy to break it. It wasn't like these calm little texts who could ideal here for centuries. This was a powerful book that probably casted off spells at random if it felt like it. Magically infused objects were said to have a life of their own, and Loki quite remembered the first pen he was given as a prank. It stabbed his hand every time he made a mistake, and his grammar improved within the hour. Granted, it helped, but if he squinted, he could still see the scars left from the nib.

As soon as he'd made it through the thick tome, he noticed he'd eaten all of his berries. He reached towards the second bucket and began eating even more as he reached for the neatly stacked books on Dwarvish Weaponry design.

Somewhere in his mind, he quietly recalled that he had not picked a second bucket.

Loki froze.

Those books had been stacked when he returned from his fruit picking. They had been scattered previously at the mummy's feet.

He could hear his own heart beat as he listened for any movement.

"Is someone here alive? Please answer me if you are. I mean you no harm. I'm a friend of knowledge." Loki spoke loudly to the supposedly empty library. He noticed a wispy movement out of the corner of his eye. He untangled himself from the warm pelt, which he noticed now was grey instead of the white one he'd been under earlier.

"Please. I promise you, I come in peace. I'm only looking for the Book of Time." Loki spoke again, all of his training in polite public speaking coming to some decent use.

"_No book….No book leaves."_ Loki could have sworn he felt his spine freeze at the tiny clipped words.

"Do you mean to harm me?" Loki felt the need to ask. Certainly ghosts were not known to be violent. And these beings were kind, right? They loved knowledge. They were just here to protect it.

"_No harm. Just learn. Just listen. Just rest, Loki_" And this was where Loki's bladder made itself known. Never, in all of his years, had he spoken to a ghost. And he never intended to again. But, hell, since he was here and his mind was going absolutely insane-

"Are you trapped here?" Loki asked.

"_No. We stay. We save."_ The voices came in unison. There may have been ten or twenty, but they sounded harmonious.

"Are you the guardians who died here?" Loki felt the question on his lips. The last thing he needed right now was a demon eating his soul, and they loved to impersonate ghosts and small children. Why? The easy targets. People loved children, and would always approach them and offer them what they asked for. As for ghosts, well, curiosity killed the cat. Some people just didn't learn to leave things that went bump in the night alone.

"_Yes. We save."_ The ghostly voice spoke.

"Will you show me where the book is?" Loki asked. This would definitely shorten his search.

"_No need. Book won't help."_ Oh, well, that's just great. Even the ghosts know he's hopeless.

"Why not?" Loki pleaded.

"_Loki, meant to live. Loki, special. Loki, loved. We not loved."_ Loki could only assume by their strained words that it took a lot of their magical reserves to speak, which led to clipped sentences.

"That's very sad, but I'm not loved either. I want to erase myself from time. Can you help me." Loki announced. He noticed that he was surrounded by so many tiny white wisping forms. They looked like thick fog, moving like water around him.

"_Loki meant to be. Loki good. Loki brings new life. Loki is loved."_ The voices came in haunting unison. Loki felt his head swirl badly. His legs gave out beneath him and his felt himself stumble into the table, knocking it back a bit.

"No, Loki brings Ragnarok. Loki is bad. Loki is not meant to be. Everything will be better. I promise. Just let me do this." Loki pleaded as his head swam. The wisps surrounded his covering, pulling all of the available furs from around the hall towards Loki in a creepy motion, piling them into a makeshift bedding. He felt himself being lowered down onto the mound of furs and wrapped gently in the largest of the bunch. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing but air escaped his lips.

"_All will be good. Loki not bad. Loki not bad._" He could feel their ghostly cold pressure against his head as he began to fall back asleep. Even the ghosts were against him vanishing.

Perhaps he will listen when he wakes.

* * *

Review please? Pretty please? Issues, silly stuff, why you guys read this about once a day?


	7. Chapter 7

Whoever decided that Jotunheim had to be this cold should have been shot with Mjolnir's earthquake bolt.

Thor was shivering so much that his teeth ached from the chattering more than the frigid cold. Yet he pressed on, encouraging his comrades to do the same while their cheeks turned blue and what little bits of flesh exposed to the wind froze slowly. Sif chose to stay the closest to the mighty frozen prince, and the Warriors Three followed closely behind in a somewhat straight line. Fandral was having the most trouble staying upright against the wind, but managed to still spur a curse here and there. Thor had started to smirk at the idea of all of the vengeful thing he swore to do to Loki in justification for his frozen assets, but chose to keep his mind on the journey ahead.

Heimdall had placed them as close to the library as possible, but it was still fifteen miles through snow and icy winds to reach this Odin-forsaken hall. And Thor could tell why- the rocks and ice made for a bad landing, and even Thor's legendary courage and fortitude could barely keep him going. Had he more sense in his head, perhaps they would have turned back. But he was Thor, and worse, he'd made a terrible mistake. He couldn't let Loki do this to the Nine Realms. He was the one who deserved punishment, not the realms.

Thor's foot slipped again on one particularly angled slope. He tried to grab onto an edge, but the soft ground gave away.

Curses streamed from the icy throat, hoarse with bitter cold air and severe lack of mucus. He threw his fist at a random hard wall like object to his darkened side, missing the first time, but relieving a part of his frustrated soul on the victimized object.

A moment of analysis while nursing a bruised back gained the knowledge that it was slightly less glacier forming cold in this place.

"Thor!" He heard Sif call. He grumbled as he managed to sit up, hand heavy on his back. He didn't think he'd broken a bone, but he'd had worse injuries with far less pain before.

"I'm down here!" Thor replied as he began to look around.

"Are you hurt?" Hogun called.

"No. Yes. Not badly." Thor huffed as he tried to steady himself on some slippery- books? As his eyes adjusted to the dismal lighting, he saw that he'd landed on a large pile of tomes. He carefully steered himself down the slope as the books slide from underneath his pained backside, until his feet touched the ground.

"Hang on, we'll pull you back up!" Sif called as she started to unravel the rope they'd brought with them.

"No! Come down! We've found the library!" Thor acknowledged the irony of those words. Thor, the great demolisher, Prince of all things that went boom, was happy that he'd found a damn library. Oh Odin, the warriors back home would never stop the teasing. Thor was to be the next bookworm king.

"Keep clear! We're coming down!" Thor noticed the shadows of his friends as they started to dispel the light with their figures. Thor took a moment to really take in this place. It looked as if a spell had gone horribly wrong. Stacks of books spluttered everywhere, bookshelves barely recognizable in their torn and tattered remains, and scrolls poring over destroyed columns in waterfalls of written paper- Thor knew Loki would find this depressing. Such knowledge never taken care of. Wasted to time and rot. It even made Thor a little depressed to see the uncared for collapsing piles of expensive knowledge trashed into a corner for too many years. The smell of mold just abducted his nose, mixing with the pain from the fall and making him want to vomit a little. Nothing compared to a good night of feasting, but the bile was still there in the back of his throat.

Thor chose to sit for a moment as the memories of his brother's fussing came back to him. He rested his back against what appeared to be a table at one time, and breathed deeply. This place smelled like death. Old and musty, unloved and left to perish- well, that was Jotun culture. They clearly enjoyed destroying things they didn't enjoy and forgot how talented some beings were. Their idiotic loss. A prize like Loki shouldn't be forgotten about. He was far stronger than they had realized. He'd survived his first year, despite a bad lung infection and his tiny body rejecting goat and cow's milk. Thank Odin for golden sheep. Their green milk was the only thing his brother could drink.

Thor could still recall his childish insensitivity when mother held the tiny babe in her arms, cleaning up milk regurgitation after regurgitation. He'd thought his new brother was just being picky, but no. Poor, tiny, too cold Loki was not responding to milk, and it had mother worried and father faithless. He'd overheard the king say to one of the nurses that he'd be surprised if the tiny babe lived past a week at that point. Then Eir, only a young milk maiden who loved the sheep as much as her family, brought a small pail of milk to Thor when he'd spoken about it to his friends. He'd handed it to his mother, who relented to her own lack of exhausted thought, and fed it to the tiny babe. Hours of waiting with baited breath for a spit up finally restored her confidence, but the pair of mother and child slept like a bolder that night.

Such simpler times. Easy problems with easy fixes, less battle and less trouble.

Maturity was overrated.

Thor would gladly take those days over the last week.

Thor banged his head against the table twice, admonishing himself for ever acting that way towards the only person who mattered to him. Sure, the friends that followed him were wonderful, but their loyalty was nothing compared to Loki. Loki, who sat with him when he imbibed too much, or healed his wounds when he was younger and didn't want mother to find out about his late night fighting, or when Loki would help him with his studies so he wouldn't have to sit with another tutor who slapped his hands when he answered incorrectly.

Something dusty fell on Thor's shoulder. He sighed with closed eyes and turned gently to look at the bit of paper or scroll edge-

Or hand.

Thor stared for a moment before screaming loudly and jumping back. He felt his bruised flesh yelp out, but chose not to tend to it. He looked up, seeing a mummified body there.

Norns sake!

No one mentioned mummies a-a-and dead stuff!

Thor had seen plenty of death in his days, but this was different. Heimdall and Odin never spoke about interrupting someone's final resting place.

Damn Loki. Damn him to Hel and back. That was the last straw! He was tried, wet, half frozen, beaten up by a damn library floor, and now was covered in dead things dust. No. No more. He'd had enough of this. Next time Loki wanted to run off to destroy the universe, he could just damn well do it! Or Odin could shove some of his plentiful guards off to form an army to stop the younger man from doing… well, whatever he chose to destroy the universe with next time.

In a few moments of heavy breathing, internal ranting, and half-hearted threats against his brother, he realized that Loki should have refused to step foot into this place. He was the one that was usually paid attention to honoring the dead and avoiding trips that disturbed graveyards. Thor clenched his fist as he realized how badly Loki wanted… whatever it was he really wanted. Thor was still unsure. It looked like he was trying to destroy the Nine Realms, but Loki was a trickster. Perhaps he'd just left that out to throw them off. But this place, this once magnificent place, was mentioned far too often. This place had to be where Loki was.

"Shit, Thor, your arm!" Sif tended to the clumped over man with care, trying not to aggravate his wounds any further. Thor had a nasty habit of pulling his limbs away like a child embarrassed to be hurt when he fell in battle. It really was unbecoming of a prince.

"It feels like just a scrape now, but it was a hard fall." Thor commented, more for informing than for comfort. The Great Thor didn't seek the luxury of a woman's snuggle when he was harmed. He sought the feast mead and laughter (and an occasional hug from Frigga wasn't rejected- she was the Queen after all).

"Well, hold still while I clean it. The last thing you need is a fever on the trip back. Navigating this trip has been a nightmare." Sif remarked in return as she withdrew a bandage from her pack and soaked it in clear alcohol. Thor hissed through his teeth as it touched his skin. All of their magic, and Sif insisted that this was still the best way to disinfect things? Sure, it worked, but it burned!

"No stones?" Thor jokingly asked.

"You know we were instructed to hold off on magic until we found this place. That included medical magic. We may need it to fight or to make a fire. I doubt you're volunteering to freeze over a scrape." Sif chuckled as she wrapped the bandage tightly enough to cut off a bit of circulation.

"You know me too well." Thor returned.

"Well, you have a penchant to force them off. That's the downside of big muscles." Sif commented. They stood and glanced towards the still frozen others, who were trying to warm themselves in a huddle as best as possible. Hogun's braids were generating icicles, Volstagg's bread was still frozen solid, and Fandral's mustache was drooping with ice. It was really quite sad.

"Shall we move away from the open hole in the roof and warm ourselves?" Thor suggested with a small smile.

"Yes. Yes. Get me the Hel away from this blasted weather." Fandral sneezed twice before trying to rub his arms again.

"I believe we only have one real route from here." Volstagg nodded in the open direction. The other side was completely collapsed in.

"To find our Loki." Sif announced as she conjured a small flame in her palm, keeping her good eyes on the darkness ahead and leading the men towards the center of the library.

* * *

Loki had awoken a few times, and each time, something had changed. His mind was beginning to refuse logical time and reasons. Once, he'd had his shirt removed when he awoke, and he was certain he hadn't removed it himself. Another time, he'd been on a table when he poked his eyelids open. And then, another round, he was bundled in one of the large fabric chairs with four fur blankets curled around his small body.

And then there was the food. Three times he swore he smelled roasting meat. Twice he smelled baked goodies. And last time, he could smell roasted golden apple cider bubbling away in a pot somewhere.

Now this time, he felt a hand on his head, petting his hair in the most disturbingly sensual way. He feared to open his eyes, because he swore it would be a demon or a ghost.

But his better half shoved his weakness to the side.

He pried one eye open slowly, heart ramming his chest as hard as Thor's hammer, to see a small Jotun, about his size, with long tresses and covered in regal, but ancient, furs.

"Hello, Loki."

Loki didn't' respond right away. He stared at the young man with fearful realization that this may be a live runt Jotun.

"Who… who are you?" Loki asked gently, his voice sleepy with rest and his mind rattling.

"My name is Nan. You are the only visitor here in a very long while." Nan spoke gently, still petting the prince's hair. Loki took a good look at the young man. His eyes were purple, while his skin was lighter blue than Loki remembered his to be.

"Do you live here?" Loki asked, his addled brain not responding to the world well.

"Live. Died. Kinda the same thing to a being like I." Nan jested in rhyme. Loki smiled at the man, who in returned wrapped a loose end of the fur on Loki's shoulder around his body. The hammock like bed, which may have once been used as a seat or a daybed, swung gently as Nan started to push the ground gently with his feet.

"Have you been watching me?" Loki asked carefully.

"Watching and caring for. You startled me when you arrived here first, and my powers were rather… diminished. So, after you rested a bit, I fed off your residual energy and regained a bit of mine." Nan reached behind his back to fetch a juicy berry from a bowl. He pressed it to Loki's lips as he brushed the prince's hair out of the way. Loki took the fruit carefully, trying to access if it was poisoned or not, but barely registering it as the juices slid down his throat.

"So you were the one making me so tired." Loki asked.

"Yes. I usually require a small sacrifice from the local city to replenish a bit of energy, but you just ooze it wherever you go. I may just tell them to cancel this year, if you stay." Nan spoke.

"Sacrifice? Of what?" Loki asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"Oh, just a warrior or two's energy. Don't worry, they usually live. Oh, but they do make such a fuss. It's not like I'm going to kill them, you know. But back when our people were thriving, our families would come to see us now and then, and that was enough to sustain the entire library! Just a little each day, and you don't even have to use a magic gatherer spell. Such better times." Nan spoke.

"Wait, you've been here with these… these- mummies- for how long?" Loki asked as he shifted in his blankets. Part of him didn't even know why he was talking to this person he'd just met, but if he was debating offing himself in a bit, why the Hel not?

"Well, yes. The sacrifices never want to help me bury them properly, and it is forbidden for a scholar to touch the dead. So I don't have much choice. It does make for rather… disturbing settings, I know. But I don't even have the energy to repair what'd been damaged." Nan sighed. Loki allowed his brain to percolate for moment while Nan fed him another piece of fruit.

"Could I help you repair this place? In exchange for help of my own?" Loki asked carefully.

"Yes! Yes please!" Nan clapped his hands together in a cheerful gesture.

Loki noticed, that even with Nan's excitement, his feet still weren't touching the dust covered floor. They were going through it.

* * *

A review would be nice in this holiday season. So…maybe please? Happy holidays everyone. Oh, and tell me if there's a typo. I'm kinda frazzled at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki pushed the last the fallen pillars up to the ceiling, still barely registering the weirdness of the whole ordeal. Nan had been watching him the entire time, clapping like a small child at the most basic of repairs. This was nothing for a mage like Loki, but the feeling of Nan's eyes on his back was strange to say the least. Whenever he repaired damage across Asgard or whichever of the realms his former homeland had decided to devastate, no one congratulated him. No one said thank you or watched him with such happiness in their smile. No one even asked him to add something on for the sake of ease. The locals would huff at the second prince, whose magic cost them the battle, no doubt. Mages as powerful as Loki were hard to come by and often mistrusted because of their capabilities, save for Vanaheim. In Vanaheim, we was treated like a normal mage and had he been able to reverse time, he probably would have requested a chance to move there before all of this chaos had a chance to break loose.

But with Nan's arms around his chest in a loving hug, Loki couldn't help but let go of all the feelings he'd accumulated during those moments. Nan seemed to like him well enough. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would forget his original idea. A new name and a new life may suffice. 'Loki' would not have to bring Ragnarok if there was no 'Loki' to bring it. Just a runt Jotun, living with another runt Jotun in the icy realm, well away from the universe that rejected them for the loose tongues of fools.

Nan released him as the supposedly younger runt ran off to find some of the tomes that needed to be fixed. He'd refused to allow Loki to bury the corpses, even after the offer. Something about how Loki was far too regal to touch a body.

No.

He may not be Loki to the rest of the world, but time and experience had taught him that those who tried to just vanish rarely succeeded. He could recall how many deserters were quite literally dragged back to the throne room and sentenced to the dungeons during war times. How they begged for mercy, claiming that this kind of war was not right. Where pillaging and slaughtering the innocents in villages was not honorable, and how they dreamt of the faces of scared children and women before they died. Loki felt for them, but Odin had sentenced the supposed traitors to the same fate as the enemies. Part of Loki now cringed at the destiny he'd avoided for years without realizing it. Would the high counsel have thrown him into the dungeons the second Odin passed? Would they have made an example of him? Killed an available Jotun who'd wandered into their midst as soon as Odin had left this world?

And for that, what would Thor do?

Would he have believed that the brother he'd grown up with, who was always trailing behind him by five or six steps, was an enemy he'd been trained to kill? Perhaps the meat headed Thor would treat it like a rite of passage. Killing what you loved for the betterment of your people- as practice and proof of his commitment to Asgard over his own feelings. And Loki would just be a piece in the puzzle. Perhaps the ever so noisy high counsel would encourage Thor to do it quickly, for justice. And Thor would just listen, too consumed with grief to recall the brother he'd grown with. To blinded by hate to see beyond the skin color and ruby eyes to still his hand.

"Loki!" Nan came rushing back with an armful of tomes. Tattered and unloved, Loki took each tome in hand to admire it before casting his simple spells. Ripped pages sewed themselves back together. Covers knitted their tatty fabrics and leathers into smooth sheets. Bindings recoated themselves and tied tightly into hard knots that assured a sturdy repair.

His unexpected apprentice giggled like a child before crawling in a borderline erotic motion into his lap. He nuzzled the cold fleshed nose against Loki's pale skin, changing the exposed portion to the brilliant blue he'd come to hate. Loki let it go, knowing it was impossible to get the oddly affection Jotun to cease. He patted the braided head with a gentle hand, ignoring the palms that found their way into his adopted new furs. He had to admit, their style was most comfortable for a scholar. The furs were cut to cover the arms, not just drape over them like Asgard. Coats and shirts were long and warm, meant to wrap around the body while sitting for long hours of studying. Pants were made from heavy leathers, for kneeling comfortably while tending to the gardens.

So this was the life he was destined for?

Was this really a life he wanted? After all the adventures he'd gone on with Thor, spending a life here seemed so…boring. And Loki loved books, but even he needed some time out, scolding Thor about his fighting habits, helping Sif unravel her messy hair, roasting whichever unfortunate beast had fed them that evening with Volstagg, joking with Fandral- heck, even sitting quietly with Hogun. He needed that in his mind.

The big question was, did they need him?

* * *

Thor and his group made their way towards the ghostly giggles. After Thor had stopped freaking out to the fact that the entire library was haunted, Sif had hauled him by his braids towards the source. It was hard to hear at first, so far away and in such a cold place. The very place made the warriors stop in their tracks and wish to curl into their bodies for an icy slumber.

Sif was the first to step towards the blue light in the large chamber. The windows, long shattered and breezing openly, allowed the icy light of the realms natural sun to brighten the library. They searched slowly, noticing the places were pillars had once laid, and were recently moved. Their dusty outlines on the floor and obvious cracked repairs were enough to show that.

"Loki!" Sif called. Thor followed suit and nearly bit his tongue off while his teeth chattered repetitively. Fandral and Hogun simply kept looking around, bodies too cold to call for their lost friend. Volstagg sought his pack for anything left to consume.

"There." Sif announced as they picked through the destroyed rubble, which must have been artwork on the dreary ceiling at one point. The scraps were far too brightly colored for any other decoration, and seemed to have hands and eyes painted on them at one point.

There, in the middle of the lighted windows, was a large area, clear of any other beings, was a very thin looking Loki.

He was draped in shabby furs with an equally sad looking tome laid out in his hands. He was slumped over on his side, chest rising and falling with restrained breathes barely shivering from his open mouth. His face showed his lack of weight, with sickly bones protruding from the once beautiful face.

Thor was the first to his brother's side, practically running over the broken bookcases and sliding on the floor as his feet lost traction on- old fruit pits?

Covering the floor was possibly thousands of cherry, plum, and peach pits. There was also unrecognizable seeds, but not nearly as many as the rounder stones. Each one was covered in dust and appeared to have been there for a while.

Thor nursed Loki in his arms, cradling him as gently as he could as he felt the thin man's chest reduced to barely ribs. He knew in the back of his mind that mother would be furious with them when he returned, but right now he needed focus. Loki was not waking up with the soothing begging of Thor's voice. The fear clinched his chest, making his own breathing horrible until Sif's hand on his shoulder broke his thought train as he allowed her to settle next to him.

"He's alive at least. Let's check for damage first." Sif insisted as she gently pulled the heavy furs away from the slender body. The skin was shallow, and his ribs showed worse than they had expected. Sif pried an eyelid open to check for blood vessels, but she expected Loki to fight back. He never liked someone else touching his face unexpectedly, and that usually woke him.

"We need to get back to Asgard." Thor announced as a half command half request. Just as they started to bundle the unresponsive man into the furs, Thor heard something slither behind them. He glanced around, unsure of what exactly would be alive in this book filled arena. His eyes saw nothing in the dim light, nothing but books piled atop books.

"Come out!" Sif yelled as the Warriors Three drew their weapons.

"Nooo…." A voice hissed its way through the darker side of the library, causing Thor to clinch his brother to his chest even tighter. He expected to run, but knew damn well that the second they hit the snow, all Hel would break loose. This thing, probably used to the realm's coldness, would be able to move faster than any of them. If it was a serpent, even running through its home would be thrice as difficult as their ridiculous journey in. And judging from the mummies on the way in, not many of the former residents made it out alive to tell the tale of this beast.

"I am Thor of Asgard. Do you dare challenge me for my family?!" Thor roared, fed up with this creature's behavior and the Odin damned cold. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home to a warm hearth, hot mead, and Loki situated firmly beside him, most likely wrapped in a strait jacket worth of furs to prevent him from repeated this fiasco.

"He'ssss mineeeeee noowwwwww" The creature hissed, dodging out from the shadowy corner with terrifying speed, slamming into the bookshelf behind the group and knocking down a few shabby tomes. One landed on Thor's guarding arm as he lifted Mjolnir in defense, but it only served to royally irritate the prince more.

"Come claim him if you want him!" Thor handed the bundle to Sif, who grasped at the sudden motion with fluster to gain purchase on the tossed Loki. Thor roared again as he shot a barrage of lightning from his hammer into the darkness. The beast silenced for a moment before chuckling darkly at the group. Sif and Loki were pushed to the center of the group, ensuring that the beast didn't swipe the prince in a cowardly attempt.

"But he has such tasty magic. Don't take my tasty magic man." The beast hissed in a sickeningly saccharine voice.

"Is that what happened to the rest?" Sif demanded. Though she was focused on getting out as soon as possible, her common sense drove her to demand what had happened here.

"They were tasty. So tasty. Runts are always tasty. So magical. So tasty." The beast made a gross slurping sound, which made the skin of the five crawl.

"What have you done to him. He won't wake!" Thor roared as he shot another barrage into the darkened room. Not even the bright light of Thor's thunderbolts were enough to see this beast's true form.

"He's happy. I made him happy. I made him happy and ate his magic." The beast hissed.

"Release him!" Thor growled with the ferocity of a mad dog. Sif nudged him with a shoulder.

"Thor, I think we can break his hold over Loki if we make a strategic retreat." Sif spoke. Thor thought for a moment.

"He will have an advantage at the entrance. What say you?" Thor asked the group.

"I say we run for it. Heimdall may not have been able to use the Bifrost to get us here, but he won't mind isolating this place a little more if it collapses the ground here." Hogun voiced. The rest agreed, knowing the instability of the ground was to their advantage for once.

The next few minutes were a blur. They were running down the hallway and crashing through the rubble with Mjolnir leading the way. Even Thor didn't think that the stone would shatter in such a way. But as it rained down over them, they heard the beast behind them, hissing and chasing the group.

"NOOO! MY TASTY!" It screamed as it blasted its way through the piles that Mjolnir left in its wake. Thor could see the light of outdoors. He pushed forward, shoving anything left in their way aside as he buckled down.

* * *

He couldn't breathe.

Freezing.

Choaking.

Dying.

Where was Nan?

He shouldn't be this cold.

Why was he, a Frost Giant cold?

Yelling?

Where was his body?

Was he in his body?

Yes. He was.

Starving and weak, but still alive.

What the Hel was that explosion?

Light?

Brighter lights.

Too Bright. Hot. Dying.

NAN!

* * *

Ok, I feel really dirty writing Nan's/creepy beasty part here, but let's try to finish this out. Not my best work, but I'm down and times are sucky. Enjoying a nice snow day in my area. So review if you'd like, flames and fails will be ignored, polite constructive will be hailed as awesome. Oh, and I hope you enjoyed Loki's senselessness interpretation at the last part. Because I rewrote that about 4 times too many.

Meh… *puts on a caterpillar suit* see you in spring at this rate.


	9. Chapter 9

Gosh, i hated what I wrote. Let's try this again. Now with more Thor-ness!

* * *

Warmth.

So warm.

He felt like he was being smothered by heat.

Like he'd been wrapped in dough and allowed to steam in the chef's oven for hours.

And he didn't even care.

It felt so warm.

So sickly warm.

His fingers hurt. His body felt the stain of sweat and bacteria building on his flesh, engulfing him in nothing but choking warmth.

His stomach roared, but his brain ignored it. He felt too sick to eat.

He could begin to hear the people around him.

People?

Wasn't he with Nan?

Wasn't he alone in the library with Nan, helping him to sort out the books before he erased himself?

So why would he feel, what he could only assume, was a healers hand on his head?

"My prince?" Came the foggy voice of a healer. Loki tried to breathe, but the heavy blankets on his chest refused him any breath. He gained a little, but he couldn't even move his hand to shove the blankets off.

He needed air.

Freezing air to cool his overly hot body.

And freezing water to quench his dying thirst.

"Here, let me help you." He must have been gasping, because his sheets were lifted off him with ease, and he was forced to sit upwards. He felt large pillows being arranged behind him to allowg for a sitting position and his head, aching and begging for rest, insisted on flopping backwards. His neck felt like all of the muscles had been removed, and his body screamed for any relief from the pulsating headache.

"Open. Open. That's good." He could now make out the caretaker's voice. Sigyn? Eir? Not Frigga- she would have chided him for falling so ill when he had so much reading to do, in her own joking way. Not Sif either. She would have forced his mouth open with Thor's help. But he forgot all of his inner ramblings as the icy water hit his throat. He tried to drink, but it became mud in mouth, sloshing out of his lips and trickling down to his ear.

"Oops. That's ok. That's actually good. You're trying. Here, let me get that." The woman lifted him a bit more and he felt a cloth wipe his cheek to clean the water off. He felt the cup lifted to his mouth again and he allowed her to pour this time. He didn't like the sensation of water against his cheek unless he was willingly in the bath, and this time he couldn't wipe away the sensation of wetness where the droplet had gone.

"I'm not sure if you can hear me, but you've been here for five days. I'm glad you responded this time. Your family was getting worried." The healer stated. He'd always thought their talk to the comatose was strange, but hailed towards a more mortal feeling that most of them favored. A sense of humanity where the silent were almost like corpses. It made the whole ordeal less dead to the half living.

Now that he was apparently on the other side of that coin, it did feel nice to know where he was. Now, perhaps if he moved a bit, she'd tell him more. He motioned his lips- a task that destroyed his energy and left him surprisingly nauseous. She giggled more and poured a bit more water into his mouth. It wasn't as sweet as the first time, but he didn't argue. His body demanded it. It also demanded solid food, but that seemed to be a far off dream at the moment.

"Your brother, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three retrieved you from Jotunheim. They said you must have fought bravely, but were caught by a terrible beast. It was trying to eat you, and even they could not defeat it. They have been coming and going, but only Thor insists on staying at night. I sent him away just a few hours ago to eat and bathe. He is a man, after all. I'm surprised his stench didn't wake you sooner." The healer kept talking. Loki was fairly certain without his sight that this was Eir, because Sigyn would never speak lowly about anyone, even in a joking manner.

"…b-booo-…." Loki hushed out. His book. He needed that damn book. For the love of Odin, please tell him that the oaf had retrieved that priceless tome so he could end this idiotic circle of insanity.

"Boo? I'm not scared of you, Loki. Although, without your magic, you do look rather thin and terrifyingly boney. As soon as you are able, I'm making you eat something real. Not just the warm milk and honey you love so much. Real meat with real vegetables." Eir insisted with a gentle giggle. It was a call back to a more comforting time, and Loki mentally noted to thank his brother's friends for not mentioning his real reasons, assuming that at least Sif would have figured it out.

Ok, that may have been a taller order than he originally thought. Sif didn't even remotely enjoy his presence, why would she favor his own unstable ideas on how to remove his existence?

"You rest. I'm going to give you another stone, but they haven't been doing much. Whatever that creature was must have been related to a Snatcher. I've never seen someone so drained of magic. But at least it's working, little by little." Eir responded as she wrapped one of the light blankets over his chest and up to his neck. Loki was thankful that she hadn't placed him back down on the bed, because his head was still reeling from the lack of magic, food and water.

He hadn't even thought about such a beast inhabiting the long forgotten library, but he hadn't even sincerely thought a beast like that existed. Sure, they were littered through Asgardian children stories, meant to scare the bravest of future warriors with their draining abilities. But no one had seen one in centuries. They were supposedly extinct years ago, long before Loki or Thor were even conceived. That creature may have very well been the last of its kind, syphoning off the remnants of magic tomes and murals- maybe even off the long dead corpses in the library. Or perhaps the creature had consumed them, posing as an army while rattling the doors and setting fires. Snatchers were crafty beings, capable of handling magic if they had enough to survive.

Either way, Loki was still back to the first step: finding that damn tome.

When the shame of being tricked subsided, Loki would heal. He would eat his fill, gather his things, and be gone from this place. Away from the liars and tricksters. Away from the taunts and teases. Away from his frustrations and embarrassments.

He could find Nan-

Nan.

Nan was…

Dead?

Alive?

…the Snatcher?

"Wher- where is-" Loki choked out as he struggled for strength. Eir turned back from her tools to see what the young prince wanted. He was barely able to raise his hand, but Eir placed her ear beside his mouth.

"What, my prince?" Eir asked, unsure of what he was trying to mutter.

"Man- boy- someone with me?" Loki hushed with a quieted yet fevered throat.

"My prince, no one but your brother and his friends came with you." Eir offered. Loki cringed at a subtle reminder that Thor's friends were going to laugh at him when they barged back in. Chances were they'd be drunk off their horses and loud as a thundering bilgesnipe. Oh, Loki's ears were already screaming in distress.

"I suppose he could have stayed away from the infirmary, but I have not seen anyone new around the palace." Eir continued. Loki shooed her away with a twitch of his fingers as he curled back into himself as best as his weakened muscles would allow, which wasn't much movement at all. Eir waited until she was certain he was asleep before wrapping one of the furs that Thor had insisted they harbor in the medical facility around Loki's prone form. He barely moaned, but grasped at the fur unconsciously with the tips of his fingers.

* * *

"How is he?" Thor's words came like rough diamonds against glass. Quiet, but definitely in need of a good sharpen.

"He will live. He asked for a man or a boy that was with him." Eir sighed. She tried to ignore the flinch of the prince, knowing without too much thought the evidence of the events in the last few days.

"Nan… He was the Snatcher. There were no other living souls in that hellish place. Plenty of drained mummies and destroyed texts, but the only living ones were Loki, ourselves, and that- thing." Thor's fingers bit into his arm like a rabid dog. Eir moved a hand to stop him, but thought better of it after a moment. Some people just needed to use physical pain to overwrite the emotional strain. She'd seen it far too often in more desperate cases. Women who pulled their hair hard enough to tear out, men who bit their thumbs until they bled, and children who scratch unstoppably when their family was in the infirmary. It never made her feel better, but trying to stop them never worked. They would just resume the behavior as soon as the healers left them alone. He mentors often spoke about psychological behavior, and how to combat instability in the emergency ward; but she never thought she'd see the ever popular, ever positive Prince Thor exhibiting the same symptoms of patients that had no support net.

"Then perhaps, when he awakes, you should be there. He needs someone. And I can only hold him as long as he is a threat to himself. Loki is smart. He will heal as quickly as he is required too, and will be out of our reach again. As much as I hate it, something has gone terribly wrong. He needs a brother- a family. I'm going to have a hell of a time trying to prove to the high courts that he's a threat to himself, and even Odin cannot hold a citizen against his will." Eir lectured. She knew that somewhere in Thor's overly beaten brain, there was some education there. Thor chewed on his thumb harder. Eir heard the nail tips breaking, but chose not to say anything.

"And I cannot vouch for much. Family after all." Thor added quietly. "I take it you cannot sedate him for a few weeks?"

"You know as well as I that is dangerous and unlawful. I would end up in the stocks." Eir sighed, knowing in the back of her mind that she wanted to do just that. Keep the blasted drama king of Asgard sedated and under control- not going to happen. The law was a double edged sword after all. And it loved stabbing her best intentions in the side for fun.

"Well, there is one thing we can do." Thor teased with a strangely tired smirk.

"Oh no. No no no." Eir responded curtly. This was just a bad idea- especially from the bone head Prince Thor.

"Well, if you would spin the blood tests for me, I'll grab some slumber root from the fields where I practice. The high courts won't be the wiser. It may save us a few more days, at least." Thor shrugged, choosing to ignore her obvious reluctance. Eir raised a tired brow to his suggestion.

"Damn it all. That… may just work." Eir replied, knowing very well that refusal of proper administration to this particular patient may result in Thor repeating his childish antics. She could see it all over again. Loki- out cold- bubbling from his mouth as Thor dumped far too much sleep draught into the little prince's mouth. The scramble afterwards could have put all of Asgard to worry of a plague. Healers, refined and highly respected, did not panic. They did not flip tables or tear off cabinet doors to find an antidote. They did not yell and scream loud enough to wake the dead. And they certainly did not shove Queen Frigga out of the way in a feverish rush- effectively showing her under skirt to the entire realm.

That day would live on in infamy as Thor's third most idiotic idea.

"Great. I'll return shortly." Eir resisted the urge to tear off his ear.

* * *

*peaks out from under the covers*

It's spring here. In the US. It hasn't felt like it for a very long while.

I'm keeping the caterpillar suit.


End file.
